Over the last few years I have become significantly better at shrugging off my Protestant background and it’s infamous work ethic, and am increasingly capable of spending days at a time doing not a lot.
Ironically though there is still work to be done shrugging it off entirely. I still have residual feelings of guilt, of letting people down, of not doing enough, of not trying hard enough, of not being good enough.
But then there is being ill. Culturally being ill is like having a get out of jail free card. You are allowed to do nothing, expected to do nothing, indeed praised for doing nothing.
That dropping away of expectations is such a release – but the moment that the insidious thought that you might just be feeling better appears the whole lot come rushing back to the fore!
Thank goodness my throat is still so sore that I am having trouble speaking. I’m off back to bed to enjoy the luxury of staring at the ceiling for a bit longer.